Reckoning
by Aesop
Summary: Gargoyles 8.  The battle with Malon Inc. comes to ahead.  Rated R for violence.


RECKONING

Here is number eight of my series. As always, I own nothing. I am doing this for fun and not for profit. If you haven't read any of my previous fanfics you _will _find this confusing. It picks up right after 'A Hunter's Tale.' I hope you enjoy it. 

NEW JERSEY: A secure research facility belonging to Malon Inc.

06:05 A.M., T + 5 MINUTES

Special Agent-in-charge Alvin Pauling crouched behind his car gripping his rifle so tightly that the circulation had been cut off, turning his knuckles white as he wondered how things had gone so wrong so fast. It was supposed to have been a text book operation. Granted they had been told to expect resistance, but this was insane.

T - 1 HOUR

The morning shift would begin arriving soon, and the current guard shift was anticipating relief. They were tired and, hopefully, growing lax. Agent Pauling finished his report to the field office by saying that he didn't anticipate any problems. The security at the place was tight, but that was only to be expected. 

Although he would never say so to his superiors, he thought that the firepower they had brought was unnecessary. These were scientists and rent-a-cops, not Colombian drug lords. Add to that the advantages they had. The agents had blueprints of the building. They knew where every door led, where the opposition was likely to hide and every twist and turn of the corridors. It didn't matter.

His superiors had been very clear. No chances were to be taken. He was to go in expecting the worst. They hadn't actually put it that way, but he understood the official language of his orders well enough to know that they were worried about this one.

For the life of him though, he couldn't figure out why. It was a bio-medical research facility. There was staff 24-7, no doubt to tend to sensitive experiments, but he couldn't see the security guards and doctors as much of an obstacle when presented with more than 30 armed agents dressed in riot gear. He even had local law enforcement standing by to assist.

__

This should be a piece of cake.

Toby Riggs nodded to his daytime counterpart. "Everything's quiet. The doctors haven't so much as dropped a test tube all night."

Art Lerner looked at the silent creatures milling about in the observation chamber. They were docile, completely under control, at least that was what the scientists claimed. He still didn't like being so close to them. He especially didn't like spending more time than he had to around them, but he owed Riggs the two hours that remained until his official shift started. Glancing at the subjects he made a mental note to himself not to gamble with work shifts as collateral anymore. At the moment he was stuck with it though. At 8:00 he would log Riggs out and log himself in. He didn't grumble about it though. He had only himself to blame.

__

Freaks, he thought. Sometimes he thought it was better not to know where they came from. At other times, he felt he really had to know. When his curiosity threatened to get the best of him, he buried his head in his work and tried not to think, period. His bosses encouraged this.

Riggs finished filling him in and then went home while Art began his rounds. The test subjects remained quiet. The doors to the high security area opened only for authorized personnel. He envied the people who would soon be going home.

One of the people passing through the door to the high security area was Doctor Martin Solmes. He kept irregular hours, only really going home when he was dead on his feet. No one was surprised to see him coming and going at all hours of the day and night. His first task of the day was to check the data from the previous night. The new control protocols seemed to be working fine, but 'seem' wasn't good enough for the boss. He wanted the mutates completely under his control. There had been some resistance to their orders before. Nothing serious, the resistance manifested itself in the form of hesitations, slowness to obey orders, but the new protocols should remedy the problem. 

Solmes checked the log from the previous night. The most difficult of the subjects had been holding 250 lb. barbell over its head for the last five hours, just as instructed. It would continue to do so until it either collapsed from hunger and exhaustion or until it was told to do otherwise.

Satisfied with the test, he ordered the subject to put down the weight and go clean itself up. At some point the subject had soiled itself, but it had not lowered the weight or even twitched according to the data. 

__

Impressive, if disgusting, Solmes noted. When the subject returned, it would be put through somewhat more rigorous testing. The number of test subjects had been kept small until the protocols were perfected. With each successive attempt they got closer to perfection. It had begun with simple, fairly standard brainwashing techniques, psychological conditioning, but their employer had deemed that unacceptable. Chemicals were next. There were drugs that made the human brain responsive and pliable, but they also slowed response time and robbed the subjects of creativity they would need in a combat situation. 

The cybernetic implants were proving the most effective so far. Solmes held out hope, that with the right fine tuning he could produce the obedient soldiers his employer wanted.

The theory was simple enough. The implant stimulated the pleasure centers of the brain when orders were obeyed. Other areas were stimulated when there was misbehavior. When an order was given by a recognized superior obedience was immediately, automatically rewarded, as was disobedience.

A subject's free will didn't actually enter into it. It was rather like bypassing the software and working directly with the hardware. To make the transition easier on the subjects the implant also erased their memories. They had no memory of a life other than the one they led now. It made it much easier to control them if they had no conception of any other kind of life.

After a short time the subjects who had been inclined to resist had stopped. They began to actively work for the rewards obedience brought. It was the ideal solution to the problems of controlling the soldiers. Moloch had been pleased, but he demanded extensive testing to ensure that the subjects would obey any order. The tests so far had been rudimentary. 

The subjects had been willing to undergo considerable discomfort and perform simple tasks without hesitation. The next step would test their ability to follow complex orders and solve problems. Eventually they would see if the subjects were willing to kill or die on command. That was the real test.

Moloch had wanted to accelerate that aspect of the testing, but Solmes had pointed out that having a soldier willing to walk off a cliff on command wouldn't mean much if that same soldier had to be told to duck when someone started shooting at him.

Dr. Solmes could still hardly believe it sometimes. Moloch. A legendary god giving the orders. Solmes had seen proof of Moloch's identity and was duly impressed by it, but it had not been Moloch's dubious 'god-hood' that convinced him to follow the Carthaginian deity. It had been the promise of power. Solmes rather doubted that Moloch would be any better at running the world than any of the idiots currently in charge, but he had been promised power in the new order. An order that Solmes knew was coming. Moloch could destroy an army at a whim if he chose to. No one would be able to stand in the way of the Unseelie, and Solmes had assured himself a place of power with the winning side. 

His pleasant thoughts of power and control were interrupted by the return of the test subject. He called to one of the lab assistants and began setting up the next test while the mutate stood by obediently.

"Hard to believe this guy was the most difficult of the lot," his assistant commented. "I mean look at him. He's as docile as a kitten. He'd be just as happy standing on his head as standing at attention." He brightened at the thought, but Solmes glared at him before he could give the order.

"I hope that isn't how you've been testing the subject, by making it do circus tricks."

"N-no sir. I've stuck to the guidelines you laid down."

"See that you continue to do so," he said firmly. The lab assistant, Greg something or other, was a weasel and a suck up, this was irritating enough, but he also had a cruel streak that required Solmes to step on him occasionally. He had already shown that, if given an inch he would take a mile.

Solmes suspected that if he allowed Greg to amuse himself, the man would soon have the subjects doing all manner of disgusting things. He had seen the pasty faced little slime staring at some of the female subjects, no doubt wondering what he could get them to do.

Solmes quickly pushed away the distasteful images that thought generated. He gave his full attention to the control center. Making sure the new settings were documented, he began to adjust the broadcast parameters.

The control center was not necessary to control one subject, or even the dozen that they had operational, but it would be almost vital when there were hundreds or thousands of them. The control equipment would allow them to give orders to large numbers at once or to single out one soldier. Theoretically it would allow the army of mutates to work in concert like insects in a hive, achieving a degree of efficiency that generals had only dreamed of in the past.

The broadcast itself shifted frequency constantly. It would be impossible to jam the transmissions for more than a few seconds even if the enemy knew they were there.

When the signal was relayed through the communications satellite that Malon Inc. had secretly co-opted, they would be able to control their soldiers anywhere in the world.

***

Art watched as the creatures were put through their paces. They were docile and obedient and very frightening to look at. He didn't really care how well the docs could control them; he just wanted them kept away from him.

At the moment, they were going through a series of hand-to-hand combat drills. Their strength was amazing. Art shuddered and moved away. He was supposed to be watching them for any signs of trouble, but he just couldn't bear it. He went through the motions of checking security cameras and double checking the alarm systems, even though that wasn't his assignment. It kept him looking busy, so he wouldn't get chewed out, but he wasn't really paying attention. If he had been, he might have noticed the stutter in the feed from one of the fence cameras.

***

5:30 T -30 MINUTES

Hunter looked at his watch and then at Xanatos sitting across from him. "May I use your phone?"

"You want to check on the progress of your plan? Whatever it may be?"

"No, I have no way of doing that at the moment. I'm about to remedy that though." He picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Even as we speak the circus is beginning. Time to send in the clowns."

***

Nicole St. John was not pleased at being called first thing in the morning, especially by complete strangers. The man said he wanted to remain anonymous, but insisted that he had an urgent tip. She listened. Five minutes later she was out the door and calling her crew with her cell phone.

***

A bleary eyed Jerry Pearson also received an anonymous call. He hadn't gotten to bed until almost 2 A.M. When he heard the phone he doubted he could drag himself out of bed to accept a Pulitzer Prize. He was wide-awake by the end of the call.

***

Travis Marshall shouted at his crew as they loaded the equipment while wiping the sleep from their eyes.

***

Xanatos looked mildly impressed. "That was educational."

Hunter nodded absently, his mind already elsewhere. He rose up and prepared to leave. "I think I'd like to spend some time with Robin." He left the office. Xanatos watched him go in silence. Then turned to Owen.

"Owen?"

"Yes sir?"

"What the Hell is going on?"

***

Hunter found the young Fay playing with Alexander. In any other household it would have been strange to find such a young child up so early, but everyone at the castle kept odd hours. The two children were playing catch without touching the ball. It would float in front of Robin for a second before arcing up into the air and down toward the red-headed toddler. It would stop a few inches from him and return in the same way. 

Hunter smiled at them. "Hello Robin." She caught the ball in her hands this time and smiled at the large mutate. 

"Hi! I haven't seen you in a couple of days. Where've you been?"

"Sorry honey. I've had a lot of work to do. I'd like a chance to make it up to you though."

"Okay. Wanna play catch with us?"

"Sure." He seated himself on the floor with the kids and began to play. He tried to focus on the simple game and on light conversation as he asked Robin about her training.

She complied readily, telling him about the fun she was having and the way Puck made her laugh while he taught her how to use her magic. She talked about the history she had learned from the white-haired Fay.

All in all, she was happy. She had been distrustful of Puck at first, but she had gotten over it quickly. He had told her grand tales of Avalon and the people who lived there, and Robin was thinking that it might be fun to visit someday.

Hunter kept his smile with an effort. This was not what he needed. He had hoped to relax, since there was nothing else to do. Instead all he'd done was change problems.

Puck had been telling tales. Well edited tales no doubt. This was definitely not good. 

In all fairness, Hunter had to admit that Puck probably had no sinister motive. He simply didn't see the harm his people so casually inflicted. Hunter vowed he would have a word with Robin's teacher at the next opportunity, but he said nothing to Robin.

She was happy, and at the moment, that was what counted. Hunter wasn't happy though.

***

06:00 NEW JERSEY

A delivery van rolled through the gates and approached the front entrance.

Two men in bullet proof vests lay on their stomachs in the brush, waiting for the signal. They had cut the lines to the cameras, so the rest could move in without being seen. Such steps were unusual, but secrecy had to be maintained till the last minute. Both agents had been in on raids at crack houses and were familiar with the problem of dealers disposing of evidence. That seemed ludicrous given the setting, but their orders were clear.

Another agent stood by at a local power substation, waiting the order to cut power to the facility. The power company was cooperating, but it had taken a court order to get them to cut power to an entire grid, even if there was nothing else in the area.

Small groups of agents covered every point of access and egress. No one would be leaving without their knowledge. 

"All right," Pauling said, "Lets do it just as we planned." He looked at his watch. "Cut the power."

***

Inside the lights went out, warnings flashed up on computer screens throughout the complex, and people scrambled to find the problem, and to save the work they were doing.

Doctor Solmes cursed as the lights went out and his monitor went dead. He glanced at the UPS that should have kept his terminal operational for a few more minutes, but it was dead too. He turned to the control center that had it's own power source and a tie into the emergency generator. He reached under to power it up. Something was happening.

***

Art didn't notice the problem at first. He was busy trying to look like he was watching the freaks without actually having to look at them. Almost a minute passed before a call from the main security office told him there was a problem. By then the external security system was irrelevant.

FBI and ATF agents moved in. The delivery van drove straight through the glass doors of the front office and began disgorging armed men.

The stunned receptionist, who'd been almost dozing over her multi-line phone, was quickly subdued while most of the men poured into the heart of the complex, or tried to anyway. 

***

Jack Stein led the charge into the complex. His men spread out to secure the first room. It was a common area with a number of doors leading off it. They knew from the plans which doors led where, but checked each one anyway, as per procedure. Stein smiled proudly at his men as cries of "FBI! Freeze!" came from all around him. Everything was going according to plan, just the way he liked it. He had seen things go bad plenty of times, after 15 years as an FBI field agent, he figured he had seen just about everything.

He led the way to the next door and was about to go through when it opened in front of him, and Jack Stein saw something new.

***

Solmes watched through the monitor as the test subjects engaged the FBI agents. They had surprise on their side and managed to panic the agents with their roars and blasts of bio-electric energy.

The man in the lead went down, nearly decapitated by a particularly vicious swipe from a wolf-like mutate. Others poured out behind him and spread through the room. Two more agents were killed before they could retreat. The attack had been so sudden and vicious that they had not had time to react properly. The few shots that were fired were wild and didn't come close to the subjects.

All over the complex the agents were driven back or held at bay by Malon's human guards and the vicious creatures that joined them in the defense of the place.

The arrival of the media didn't help matters.

The TV cameras saw almost everything. They saw a werewolf leap from a second story window and kill two agents, before it was cut in half by automatic weapons fire from their comrades.

The cameras saw flying creatures of all descriptions swoop at the agents, raining bolts of electrical fire down on them and then dodging aside to avoid return fire.

They saw the agents pull back in panic when one such bolt punched straight through a riot shield and fried the man holding it.

What the cameras did not see was Art Lerner coming through the door to Solmes laboratory.

"Sir, I've got orders to get you and the other doctors out of here."

Solmes ignored him and continued to work on the control center. He had already activated half-a-dozen more subjects and the rest would soon emerge from cold storage. 

The monitors showed the fight outside. Art stared in horror as two federal agents were killed by a subject that only an hour ago had been sitting quietly in a corner. He was the one that Lerner and the other guards jokingly referred to as Puppy.

__

He doesn't look much like a puppy now, Lerner thought. A second later the wolf mutate didn't look like much of anything.

Solmes looked at Lerner for the first time. "Get my equipment to the tunnel, the rest of the staff have gone ahead with the most vital data." It took him a moment to realize that the guard hadn't moved.

"What are waiting for? Go!"

"S-sir, those are federal agents. We can't.. You've got to stop!" Solmes stared at him incredulously.

"Follow orders." Solmes turned back to his work. He touched a series of controls to send a silent command to the subject he had in the lab, the one he'd been working with all morning. The creature moved forward silently.

"I can't sir, call them off." Lerner tried to make his voice firm and commanding and failed miserably. It came out as a pleading whine.

"Suit yourself," Solmes snapped. He addressed the subject that was approaching Lerner from behind. "Kill him." 

Lerner screamed as the huge reptilian creature lunged at him. Lerner turned to run and tripped over his feet. That was what saved him. The creature's first lunge missed and it stumbled over his prone body. Lerner managed to draw his gun as he struggled away from the thing. He pulled the trigger accidentally. The shot went straight into the control center.

It sparked and crackled and the creature screamed and grabbed its head. Lerner saw this and fired again, this time deliberately aiming at the machines. It shattered a monitor that had nothing to do with the control mechanism, but it sent Solmes scurrying out of range, screaming obscenities at him.

Lerner's next shot shut him up as it ricocheted off the edge of the console and took the top of his head off. Lerner didn't notice. He finally steadied himself enough to aim properly and emptied the rest of the clip into the control center. The result was dramatic and felt all over the complex. 

***

It was not going at all well. The creatures could be killed, yes, the dead werewolf and winged thing were proof of that, but they were so fast that it was next to impossible. Pauling had already called for reinforcements, but he didn't know if they would arrive in time. 

He had lost eight agents already. Six had been killed by the monsters and two more had been shot by human guards. It was looking desperate. Then something very unexpected happened.

The two remaining flying creatures that had originally begun harassing them pulled up short in mid-air. They clutched their heads screaming. Paulling didn't know or care why.

"Take 'em down!" he shouted, and began firing at the momentarily stationary targets. At least three streams of fully automatic fire converged on one of the creatures and it almost literally exploded into shards of blood bone and fur. The other was shot as it fell out of the sky. It hit the ground ten feet from Pauling with a sickening thud. He took a moment to examine it, while shouting at one agent who was continuing to shoot the corpse.

"Find a new target! You'll hit one of us if you keep that up." The firing stopped and Pauling took a closer look. Part of the creature's skull was a curved metallic plate. That plate was sparking fitfully. 

He raised his radio and called for a status report.

"Sir! They're going down! The monsters are dropping like flies. What happened?"

"I don't know," he answered, "but don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Move in." 

As his men charged across the parking lot in front of the building Pauling noticed that not all of the creatures had gone down. On the roof, one of them was going berserk. It was clutching its head and screaming in a high, unearthly voice. It was bending and turning and thrashing as if trying to escape from something. It lashed out blindly, sending the human snipers on the roof running. 

One of them wasn't fast enough though. Pauling couldn't tell whether it was the lash of creature's heavy tail or the subsequent fall from the roof that killed the man. 

The creature itself went down under a hail of bullets from the Malon guards. In the process, some of them exposed themselves to Pauling's men who took the opportunity to take out the snipers. Soon, all firing from the roof stopped.

It was getting far too bloody. Pauling frantically wished for something that could be salvaged as he moved toward the entrance of the building. 

"Help us," a weak voice drew his attention. He motioned for one of his men to come with him and sent the rest ahead under his second-in-command. They soon found the source of the cries.

It was one of the winged creatures that had attacked them earlier. The creature was female apparently and badly wounded. She was largely reptilian, with the slit eyes of a lizard and a carnivore's teeth. It was covered in scales and had wicked claws at the end of its fingers. Still it was decidedly female.

Pauling stared at it in shock as it spoke again.

"Help us! We not want fight. They made us to fight, but we will not serve. They can't control us now. You broke it… the controller… you broke it." The creature was racked by coughs for a moment. Then it continued.

"We are not monsters. We are people. They made us slaves." Its voice climbed in volume as it spoke its final words. 

"Do not kill us. We serve the Unseelie no more!" 

"Unseelie?" Pauling racked his brain, but there was nothing familiar about the name. It was a moment before he felt the presence behind him. He spun, bringing his gun up.

The WVRN cameraman almost wet himself.

"How long have you been there?" Pauling demanded. Jerry Pearson was pressed to the wall a few feet away scribbling in a notebook. His camera dangled around his neck.

"Are you both crazy? Get out of here!" Pauling turned and joined his men in the building, gesturing to one agent, "You, escort them back behind the lines." He went into the building to catch up to his men. Only as he caught up to them did it occur to him that the creature had been caught on film and he had not thought to take the tape as evidence. He cursed silently but was soon too busy to worry about it. He forgot.

They caught a break in one of the labs. They found a guard, scared out of his wits, but eager to help them. He told them about the tunnel that led well beyond the perimeter of the complex. He told them where it started in the basement and where it ended in the woods, a hundred yards from a service road.

Pauling gave orders into his radio and soon received acknowledgment that the spot had been located on a map and units were moving to intercept any fleeing workers.

It was primarily a mop up operation from that point. There was minor resistance and two more guards were shot, but most surrendered peacefully. For the most part they were office workers and support staff that had no idea what was going on. Most importantly, no more agents died, and the place was secured in less than an hour.

To Pauling, it felt like years.

Finally, the place was safe, sort of. A grand total of eight agents had been killed, five wounded; 13 Malon guards had been killed and seven more wounded and currently under guard at the local hospital. 

Ten of the creatures had been killed. Six had been killed outside, including the spokesman -woman -creature who had told them that they no longer served the Unseelie. _Whatever that means_, Pauling thought morosely. Twelve more creatures had been found slumped unconscious inside. Of those twelve, two had been shot by nervous agents for the crime of twitching at the wrong time. 

The other two had died of what a paramedic tentatively diagnosed as electrical damage to the brain. The implants of those two were sparking fitfully, just as the implant of the one outside had. 

The local police called to say they had intercepted a group of scientists and guards leaving the tunnel in the woods. They had surrendered without a fight.

They had also arrested two reporters for trespassing on a crime scene. The tapes from their cameras had been confiscated, but Pauling was sure some lawyer would squawk loud enough to get them back. One of those tapes showed the contents of a locked laboratory containing almost thirty tubes. They looked like something out of Star Trek or Alien. The room was meant to be cold but was warming up rapidly. When they were discovered the 25 odd, _really odd_, Pauling thought, creatures were waking up. They were dazed and confused, having no idea of what was happening or even who or what they were. One of the reporters, Jerry Pearson had spoken up for them and took the responsibility of speaking to them.

If he hadn't been a reporter, Pauling would have been happy to leave him to it, but he knew that his superiors would have his head if he allowed that. One of the creatures that had been awake during the raid had noticed Pearson's impassioned pleas on their behalf and had asked that he be allowed to stay and speak with them. Pauling spoke to one of his equally flummoxed superiors who agreed.

No one official had any idea what to do with the surviving creatures. The story was already on the air. It was being broadcast around the globe before the shooting was over.

Of all the images sent out over the airwaves, the dying female creature with her earnest words and alien beauty seemed to catch at the hearts of the American people.

***

"We are not monsters. We are people. They made us slaves." Its voice climbed in volume as it spoke its final words. 

"Do not kill us. We serve the Unseelie no more!" 

Xanatos turned off the television and faced the clan. They sat in stunned silence. Finally, Goliath spoke.

"This has been seen everywhere?" Xanatos nodded.

"A global broadcast and at Hunter's request I'm having all of Pack Media's affiliates broadcast the story, especially that part, as often as possible. I've been told that her face will be on the cover of Time. 

"The status of the other creatures has yet to be determined, but I'm told the ACLU has stepped in and is arguing fervently on their behalf. I think that _Sentinel _reporter Jerry Pearson had something to do with that.

"For now they are safe. There's far too much media attention for the surviving mutates to simply disappear, although I'm certain that is what the Illuminati and certainly Madoc would like to happen."

"What will happen to them?" Sata asked. "They are alone and without clan. When it is learned that they were once human-"

"They might not learn that," a voice broke in from the door. "The Society may try to cover it up."

Xanatos raised an eyebrow in Hunter's direction. "Why would they do that?"

"Habit," the mutate snorted.

"I don't know about that. So much has already come out it may be simpler in the long run to bring it all out. The Unseelie are as much a threat to them as they are to the rest of us, and I'll tell them that."

"As will I. Perhaps Tom will agree." This brought the billionaire up short.

"Tom?" Xanatos latched on to the bit of information immediately. "I didn't know you were on a first name basis with the head of the Illuminati." Hunter smiled.

"Well, he is my brother." 

Xanatos was speechless, something that secretly pleased the gargoyles. It was a rare thing indeed to see the arrogant tycoon at a loss for words.

***

"We are not monsters. We are people. They made us slaves." Its voice climbed in volume as it spoke its final words. 

"Do not kill us. We serve the Unseelie no more!" 

The words echoed in Moloch's mind like a death sentence might echo through the mind of a prisoner in court. A death sentence. That was what it was for him.

***

Madoc sat calmly on his throne, a thoughtful, almost peaceful look on his face. He was alone in his throne room. The members of the Unseelie court were out and about, each tending to their own affairs. 

Madoc was alone, except for the smoking remains of a television set.

***

"You lied to me Detective Bluestone." It was a statement not a question. "Why?" 

__

Ah, Bluestone thought, _a question. Now all I need is an answer_.

He swallowed nervously. "Curtis thought it best." _Wimp_! 

"So you did find him. Given the limited time you had I can surmise that you knew where he was all along, or figured it out at some point during our initial conversation." Matt nodded. "Did he think he couldn't trust me with this? I've known of the Unseelie for some time. I've taken no action because I had nothing definite." He looked at Matt directly. "He could have come to me with this. You should have come to me."

"He wanted to protect you. He does know things about the Unseelie, definite things. He even knows that they have agents inside the Society."

Duval stopped in his tracks. He was silent as he considered this. "I knew there must be a good reason. I knew it." He met Matt's eyes directly when he spoke next. "I want to see him, immediately." Duval's voice showed no signs of anger or recrimination. Instead it contained only hope, something he had been missing for a long time.

Matt nodded. "I'll take you to him."

THE END

For now.


End file.
